An Anniversary to Remember
by SamanthaLisaWalkerfan101
Summary: Chuck and Sarah's anniversary is nearing, and Sarah still hasn't found the perfect gift for Chuck! Also, fluff. Short.
1. Prologue to Madness

_Author's Note: Okay, so this is the shortest thing ever. It probably should not even be called a chapter. Maybe I'll name it "prologue," eh? Anyway, I just wanted to say hi to anybody who has read this, or any of my work, really. I know I haven't been the most post-happy writer in the Chuck realm, but things have been happening in my life that have taken me away from the wonderful world of cyberspace. This is...crap, I've forgotten the word...not canon based fiction, so don't complain about my characterizations, please. Feel free to review and complain about anything else though. I remembered what it was! AU, this is an alternate universe fanfiction! Boom! _

_Hope you enjoy the few hundred words that is this thing I decided to type out in between anxiously awaiting SAT scores, watching Gossip Girl, and reading Gulliver's Travels. Sorry for the rambling. I'm tired.  
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_XOXO, _

_SLWF_

_PS. I plan on updating again soon. I'm not gonna say when, just in case. ;)  
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><p>Pen in hand, Sarah tried to formulate the perfect words, but no matter how hard she concentrated she could not put into words the feelings that she felt for Chuck. They had been married for 35 years, and still even the thought of him kept her speechless, in her own head no less. Their anniversary was only a few days away, yet she had not been able to pick out the perfect "Chuck gift." It was so hard these days with all of the newfangled gadgets. As a spy, she had prided herself on her technological ability, even if Chuck did outshine her on occasion, yet some of the toys her grandchildren were playing with confused her.<p>

"You're not getting old, Sarah," she admonished herself. "You're just stalling. Write the stupid letter!"

But it was not just a stupid letter, not like the sticky notes that she and Chuck used to leave for each other early on in their marriage, little reminders of their love and devotion to each other, or a note to remember to pick up milk. This was a letter celebrating the 35 wonderful years of marriage that the two had shared, the three brilliant and beautiful children they had part in bringing to life, and the seven grandchildren that had made their lives complete, if not busy. The letter had to be perfect, and Sarah knew this. She knew that it had to be the best letter she had ever written, but she also knew it would be extremely difficult to write. That was why she had put it off for so long. Ultimately a poor decision, seeing as how she was only a few days away from presenting it to him.

_It's a good thing Chuck's out of town on business, _she thought. _Or he'd laugh at me for being so nervous. "It's just a letter," he'd say. But he's never had a problem telling people how he feels._

She put the pen down on the antique wood desk she was sitting at; she at least still held onto some of the things of the past. While Chuck had to have the newest innovations of everything, Sarah was happy with her wooden desk and chair set. She decided to go for a walk, to clear her head; maybe that would help put the words that she needed on the tip of her tongue.

Standing up from her chair and stretching her legs, Sarah closed her eyes and tried to imagine the day she first met Chuck, when he was just "some target" that she needed to use. She laughed quietly; it was hard to imagine those days. They seemed very far away. Her 3-year-old granddaughter, Samantha, ran in from the other room and embraced Sarah's legs.

"Grammy!" Samantha exclaimed, holding on for dear life. "Jason won't share his toys! And I want to play _Spies for Life XVII! _Grampy Chuck said I could on the phone! 'Member?"

"Yes, darling," Sarah said, patting the girl on the head. She looked just like Ellie, with dark hair, but she had Chuck's eyes. "I remember, but why don't you come for a walk with me? Then we'll make Jason share the _Gameboy."_

"Graaammmyyy," Samantha rolled her eyes, "it's not a _Gameboy. _Those are from like when dinosaurs were alive. It's a _ActionBeast 7000_. You should know! Grampy Chuck and Gaga-Morg invented it, duh!"

Sarah did not say a thing. She just smiled at her granddaughter and marveled at how smart and vocal the little girl was.

_She would make one heck of a spy, _she thought. _Just like me._

Samantha stood up, and immediately took Sarah's hand in hers. She was open and not shy about expressing her feelings, just like Chuck. That made Sarah think of the letter she needed to write, so she hurried out of the house. As the two headed out of the front door, Sarah reminded her youngest son William, Samantha's father, to watch over Jason and Casey, Samantha's cousins. Helpful as ever, William nodded his head, and Sarah and Samantha were gone._  
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	2. Playing for Inspiration

_Author's Note: Well, folks, it looks like I managed to scrape some words together to form what I call a short chapter of this story. Haha. I'm not entirely sure where this is going as I don't have a plan quite yet but I can tell you it'll be some sweet fluff. And maybe there will be a song or two featured in here from one of my favorite artists. Care to guess who? ;)_

_I hope you enjoy this_, _and please just suffer with me as I get back on the writing horse_.

_XOXO, _

_SLWF_

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><p>The two made their way, hand in hand, to the park located just down the block. The park was beautiful, even if it was incredibly different than the parks Sarah remembered playing at when she was young. There were magnificent trees and lush grass surrounding the area, with an open clearing for the children to play. Everything was greener than it had ever been, which Chuck attributed to the green movement and people's growing conscience to preserve the Earth. Casey, on the other hand, thought it was all just a conspiracy and that the plants were all made of plastic, giving them the shiny green look. No matter which was the correct answer, or even if neither was, Sarah appreciated the scenery. The playground was located on the far left of the open area, and Samantha started running towards it. However, she did not let go of her grammy's hand, and it was not long before Sarah had to start running too.<p>

As they were running, Samantha activated the hover function of her sneakers, something she just loved to do. This caught Sarah off-guard, and caused her to stumble a little. Quick reflexes, however, had Sarah back up on her feet in the blink of an eye, and she too activated the hover function of her shoes. Even though she was not a particular fan of hovering six inches to a foot and a half in the air, she treasured the sight of her granddaughter having fun.

Sarah looked down at Samantha, and let go of her hand. Samantha, not one to be slow on the uptake, smiled at her grammy and took off, shouting, "Nice try, but I'm gonna beat you!"

The two raced to the playground, still fifty yards off. Sarah did appreciate running in the hover shoes; it felt like skating, something she loved to do as a child, and again as an adult once Chuck reintroduced her to it.

_Maybe I can put that in my letter, _she thought, laughing as her granddaughter performed a somersault in the air to impress her. Not to be outdone, Sarah did a cartwheel. Not as impressive as the trick Samantha had done, but it got applause from the little girl anyway.

They finally made it to the playground, and Samantha darted to the swings. She loved the way the wind felt in her hair. "Push me, Grammy!" she yelled, as Sarah made her way slowly to the swing. Sarah laughed, and asked why Samantha didn't just want to use the "Nannybot push" function that was implanted in the swings, surprised at the answer she received, "Because I like it when you push me. It makes me feel safe."

Touched by those words, Sarah started to push little Samantha in the swing, slowly at first but soon building height and speed. She continued to ponder what to put in the letter to Chuck, even considering if writing a letter was even the best option. She could just get him a card. _Hallmark _had stepped up its game during the last few decades, and the cards were nearly as sappy as they used to be. But she resolved not to, instead deciding to ask her granddaughter for advice.

"Samantha," she began, wondering if asking a three-year-old was the best choice she could have made, "if I wrote your Grampy Chuck a card, what do you think should be in it?"

The little girl thought about it for a while; she was silent and Sarah knew that the wheels in her mind were spinning as fast as they could. Then, in the most adorable voice, Samantha simply replied, "Just tell him that you love him and that you always will. That's all Grampy Chuck needs to know."

Sarah smiled at her granddaughter's wisdom, and made a mental note to include that in her letter. "Okay, dear," she said. "Wanna go faster?"

"No," the little girl said, "I think I want to play on the jungle gym!"

And she spent no time in jumping off the swing to go run and do just that. Sarah was quick to follow. She had loved the jungle gym when she was little too, with the geometric shaped bars that formed a stable entity that she could climb on and hang upside down from. But the jungle gyms of this age were dangerous, more dangerous than hers had ever been. They floated in the air, spun around, squirted water (but in a way that the bars of the jungle gym amazingly never got wet), played music, and heated or cooled themselves depending on the weather conditions. It was strange seeing her granddaughter play on such a dangerous contraption, but Chuck had assured her a million times that it was safe, a lot safer than anything Sarah had ever played on, due to its built in airbag like devices that deployed if a child ever fell off, cushioning their falls.

_Another thing I can tell Chuck, _Sarah thought as she found a bench to sit on as she watched Samantha play. _He takes away all of my fears and makes me feel safe. _


	3. As Sweet as Ice Cream

_Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in like two days. I've been busy with summer reading (It's insane.) and life in general (It's complicated), so I haven't really had time to type 700 words. Also, I forgot my password for a while, and I didn't feel like changing it again. Ha. Well, as always, I hope you like it! I also hope you review! It not only makes me feel great that someone is taking the time to tell me what they think of my work (good or bad), but it also helps me become a better writer. So if you want my writing to improve from simple sentence structure and more complex verb usage, please tell me that. ;)  
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_XOXO, _

_SLWF_

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><p>Sarah picked up the sweaty and tired Samantha. The little girl had run around the play ground for about an hour, and even though she had much more stamina than pretty much all of the children her age, she was still just three years old. Samantha snuggled her dirty face into the crook of Sarah's neck, something that in a previous time Sarah would not have been able to handle. But now, as she was aging, she found something endearing in the way her kids and grandchildren found it so easy and so comforting to position their heads in such a manner. She knew now, of course, why they did it, for she did the same thing with Chuck.<p>

She thought that her granddaughter was asleep, so she had started walking back home. It startled her, then, when she heard a little voice say, "Grammy, you're going the wrong way."

Sarah was puzzled, "What do you mean, dear? This is the way home."

Samantha lifted her head, "I know, but Grampy Chuck always takes us for ice cream after the park. Can we go? Please?"

Sarah smiled at the child, and turned around. The girl was accustomed to silent answers from her grammy, as well as always getting her way. Sarah carried Samantha the few blocks to the ice cream shop, reminiscent of the old stores from even before Sarah's time, except with fancy technology. The store was big enough to hold a crowd, but small enough that no one wanted to eat in there. Two tiny tables were in the corner, but they never got used. Everyone ate their ice cream outside. Unlike the Orange Orange, no one was there to scoop ice cream from giant tubs. Also, unlike the do-it-yourself frozen yogurt shops, there weren't stations of ice cream along the walls, and one did not pay by the ounce. Instead, everything was available with the flick of a finger, figuratively speaking. The shop was run by robots, more or less. The customer would make their order via a touchscreen menu and almost instantly a small compartment on the counter where their order station was would disappear. A moment later, their order would show up, perfect and exact. The store had every flavor of ice cream and every topping imaginable, and without the bother of human error, the store looked magnificently clean. There was a nominal manager, but he was only there to turn on and off the machines and to make repairs to the computers if necessary.

The store was actually one of the only pieces of advanced technology that she liked. It was convenient and user-friendly. She had hoped, when the store first started up eleven years ago, that more of the stores would follow suit. Some did make the change, some did not. The ones that switched were the ones that got more customers, mostly comprised of busy people. The ones that did not switch, had loyal customers, ones that did not leave for every single new innovation in their technology. They also made more people happy, because they employed more than one person for each store. That was the downside to such convenience from the competitors' restaurants and gas stations; more and more people were unemployed.

But none of that worried Samantha. She waited patiently in line behind an old woman, much older than Sarah, who had trouble using the touchscreen menu. She was still on the first part of her order, and it was clear she was struggling. However, no one was offering the woman any assistance. Sarah wanted to; she really did, but she just thought about if someone other than her family offered her help for something so seemingly simple. Something a three-year-old could do. She would be angry and frustrated, so she just left the woman alone.

Although, Samantha had different thoughts on the matter. The old woman needed help, and she was going to help her. She walked right up to the lady, and offered her assistance.

"Thank you, young lady," the old woman said. "No one ever helps me at places like this. And I've never been here before, so I don't really know what's going on."

"That's why I'm here," Samantha said, in a way that reminded Sarah of Chuck. "So what do you want? A cone, a bowl, a bowl made out of a cone, a shaped bowl or cone, an iced bowl, a bowl made of ice, or a bowl made of candy? If I were you, I'd choose the bowl made of the cone. It's simple, but not too simple. Not to mention, it's delicious."

"You know, that would be wonderful," the woman said.

"Fantastic," Samantha said, just like a salesperson who handles customers like the old woman all day. "Do you want a chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, mint chocolate chip, blueberry, or peanut butter flavored bowl, ma'am?"

"Blueberry, thank you," the woman said. "And please, call me 'Fiona.' None of this 'ma'am' business."

"Alrighty, Fiona," Samantha said, "what size do you want? Extra small, which holds roughly 4 ounces of ice cream, small which is 6, medium which is 9, large which is 12, or extra large which is 15. There's also a mega size, holding about 20 ounces, but if you ask me, that is just too much ice cream."

"Small will do," Fiona replied, her countenance significantly cheered.

"Okay," the three-year-old waitress said, "only a few more things to choose from. What flavor ice cream? There are just too many options for me to run through in a short amount of time, but we have the famous trio: chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. We have all three mixed together. My favorite is the rainbow kind, that does not taste like Skittles if you are worried about that. It is like sugar cookie dough ice cream, with the cookie dough dyed the colors of the rainbow. It tastes amazing. And is the special of the day, see? You'll save 5% on your order."

"I'd like to try that, then," Fiona said. "And no toppings, please."

"That just makes my job easier," Samantha joked, while Sarah just thought about how charismatic her granddaughter was. "Okay, to finish your order, all you have to do is place your right thumb on this scanner here, so that you can pay for your ice cream. Personally, I like this system a lot more than the one that used debit or credit cards. It's a lot more secure, if you ask me. Good, and after you scan your thumb, just insert the amount seen on the right-hand corner of the screen. That's your total. Sign your name here. No, no pen. Just use your finger, like finger-painting. Brilliant! You're done! Enjoy!"

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Fiona's ice cream came up out of the counter.

"Wow, it's like magic!" the old woman exclaimed. "Thank you, dear!"

"No problem," Samantha said."I'm happy to help."

Fiona walked outside to enjoy her ice cream, and Sarah hugged her granddaughter, "Samantha, that was very nice of you."

"It was nothing, grammy," Samantha said. "It's just what everyone should do, you know?"

Sarah agreed, and she watched her grandchild order her own ice cream. Then Sarah ordered hers, and paid. The two made their way out of the shop, onto the now crowded street, and began their walk home.

As they were walking, Sarah couldn't help but think, _Samantha is just like her grandfather, always helpful, always patient, always kind...and that's why I love him. _


	4. Clean Again

_Author's Note: You guys should just tell me to stick to one shots. Two months between updates is a rather long time to wait. Anyway, I felt super guilt about reading fanfiction (not this fandom though) and not writing it, so here I am! So, so sorry that I made you wait, if any of you are deciding to give me another chance._

_As always, read and review! I love reading your thoughts on my writing! It makes me look at it in a whole new light. I can totally hate something I write and you could say you loved it, which makes me love it. Or I could be in LOVE with something I penned and you could say it wasn't my best effort, and I'll strive to make it better. You guys help me, so please continue to do so._

_XOXO,_

_SLWF_

_PS. This is incredibly short and totally unedited. All mistakes are mine, and you are welcome (and encouraged) to point them out.  
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><p>The two made it home safely. Despite how grown up she appeared to be, Samantha was still only three years old, and as such she was covered in ice cream before they made it to the front door. Sarah looked down at her now sticky granddaughter, and laughed.<p>

"Hey, Grammy!" Samantha looked up at her laughing grandmother, rolling her eyes. "It's not funny! This ice cream is all melty!"

"I know, dear," Sarah said, picking Samantha up so she didn't get ice cream all over the house. "Let's go get you cleaned up, okay?"

Samantha was silent as Sarah opened the front door and greeted the rest of the family. She knew that it was time for her to get a bath, and she was not happy about the idea. She hated baths. They were awful. And she especially hated to get baths so early in the day, because then she could not get dirty again later. However, she knew that her grammy had made up her mind, and that she would never change it.

"I wish Grampy Chuck was here," she muttered under her breath. "He wouldn't make me take a bath."

Sarah pretended not to hear her though. It was best to just give Samantha a bath, rather than argue with her. For a toddler, she was quite a logical being. She would start saying that it was too early for a bath because she would just go outside and get dirty again, and Sarah was in no mood to argue with her over the point. It would just be a quick bath anyway.

She put the girl down and started to run the bath water, and then she decided to ask Samantha to gather some fresh clothes. If she allowed Samantha to have a little control of the situation, the young girl would cooperate better, or at least that is what Sarah hoped.

Samantha stomped down the hallway, in a silent fit, but she did as she was told. This left Sarah alone to think about her day, and her mind immediately drifted to the letter she was supposed to write.

_Busying yourself will not make the letter go away, _she told herself. However, she did not mind. She worked well under pressure. Maybe if she ran out of room to procrastinate, she would turn into a poet. _I can only hope._

Samantha was back in the bathroom in record time, bearing a fresh outfit. Clean underwear, shorts, and a small tank top. Casual, comfortable, and practical. In this matter, she took after Sarah. Or at least Sarah in her older years.

"Come here," Sarah said, reaching for the squirmy little girl. She tickled her, a method of distraction while she quickly and efficiently rid the child of her sticky clothes. It was a routine of theirs, one both of them enjoyed. In no time, Samantha was in the bathtub.

The little girl scrunched up her nose at her grammy and said, "Why do I always have to get a bath? I wasn't even that dirty!"

Sarah just laughed, "Because, dear, we want you to have good personal hygiene. Besides, you don't like being sticky."

"I know," Samantha said, "but we could have just wiped the ice cream off."

Sarah shrugged, deciding not to discuss this matter with her granddaughter. It never ended well when she did that. Instead, she started to hum as she washed the little girl. Bath time would be over before either one noticed.

Climbing out of the tub, Samantha was quickly wrapped in a clean towel and dried off with another. She always liked this part, after the bath. The towels were soft and fluffy, and her grammy dried her off really gently. Most kids had to deal with robots and giant dryers, much like hair dryers but on a larger scale. Not Samantha, she was lucky. She had a grammy that saw no point in those.

Insisting she could dress herself, Samantha shooed her grammy out of the bathroom as soon as she was dry. This left Sarah to take the dirty clothes and the used towels to the laundry room, a task that was soon complete. With no excuse to put off writing, Sarah made her way to her office. Taking a seat in her desk, she again pondered what she would buy him for their anniversary. And more importantly, what she would write in the letter. She removed her pen from its case, opened it, and hovered it over a piece of her stationary.

_Come on, Sarah, _she thought. _You've been married for 35 years. No matter what you write, Chuck will understand what you mean. You love him. You always have, and you always will. _

Pen poised to write, Sarah was ready. She still had not figured out the exact words that she wanted to use, but she was assured that Chuck would love it, just like he loved her. She connected pen and paper, and hoped for the best. She started writing everything that came to her mind, and just like that, words appeared on the page in her perfect cursive handwriting.

_Dear Chuck, my love, father of my children, grandfather to our children's children,_

_ You are my life. You are my world. Without you, I don't know if I would be the same person. No, I know I wouldn't be the same person. You make me better. You make me want to be better. These last thirty five years have been –_

Sarah was interrupted by a yell coming from the other room. She replaced the cap on her pen and rushed out of her office. The letter would have to wait.


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